


A Clash of Cultures

by cresswells



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Banter, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drabble, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswells/pseuds/cresswells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While fighting off Blemmyes in the streets of New York, Annabeth meets a strange young demigod covered in swirling black tattoos. Snark ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Clash of Cultures

She's just about to deliver the final blow to a particularly dim-witted Blemmyae when the black-clad boy falls from the sky. He lands lightly on all fours and then looks up, like a runner about to spring forward.

"Ah," he says, grinning up at her. "Hello. Nice knife."

Annabeth doesn't reply, because in her experience guys don't often use "Nice knife" as a chat-up line. And they don't often fall from the sky armed with wicked looking blades of their own. This guy is clearly a demigod. The son of Hermes, maybe, or even a brother she hadn't known about before now.

She sizes him up – he's well-toned with strange black tattoos spiralling down his arms, a strong jaw and gorgeous honey-coloured eyes that gleam mischievously – and decides she'd rather he didn't turn out to be a son of Athena.

The Blemmyae she's pinned to the ground tries to use the distraction to attack, but she twists away from the gaping mouth in his chest and plunges her knife into his abdomen. Or was that his chin? She could never tell with Blemmyes. The monster howls and reaches out with arms that dangle from his ears even as he crumbles to ash at her feet.

"Aww," the second Blemmyae says sounding quite put out. "You killed Fred."

"Huh. Decent technique. Not bad for a Mundane," the newcomer says. To her surprise, Annabeth feels a blush rise to her cheeks as his eyes linger over her appraisingly the way she'd studied him only moments before.

"Watch who you're calling 'mundane'," Annabeth retorts. She's never heard the word used as a noun before, but his tone as he says the word doesn't sound complimentary.

The boy stands and draws a long sword from a sheath on his back. Strange, she thinks. It looks silver. Not celestial bronze like her weapon. Despite his audacity and apparent calm, she wonders if this lone demigod has ever faced a monster of Tartarus before.

"I suppose I shouldn't dismiss you so quickly," the boy says in a slow drawling voice as he traces the edge of his sword with a leather-gloved finger. "Some of your kind have been known to display sudden bouts of bravery under extreme circumstances." His wide mouth spreads into a lopsided grin, displaying a set of glittering white teeth. "Still, if you're planning to drop the bravado and run away screaming, now would be a good time to do so."

Annabeth snorts and grips her celestial bronze knife tighter. "Not likely."

If he's surprised, he doesn't say so. Instead, he turns to the one remaining Blemmyae.

"My name's Jace," he says. "And what in the Angel's name are you?"

_The Angel?_ Annabeth raises an eyebrow, but only says, "You need to brush up on your Pliny and Herodotus, Demigod."

"Well," says Jace, "since you fancy yourself the expert on these demons, by all means, enlighten me."

"They're not demons," Annabeth retorts crossly. "They're Blemmyes, an African race of cannibals. They're also headless."

"Yes, I can see that," the blonde-haired boy says, jabbing his sword in the direction of the Blemmyae's face. "Interesting. I suppose there must be some benefits to hiding a face as ugly as yours on your chest, although shopping for a suitable winter wardrobe must be a pain in the neck. Oh, sorry," he says, reaching out to pat the Blemmyae's neckless shoulder. "Touchy subject?"

The Blemmyae blinks stupidly at Jace before lifting its arms and waddling forward. "I likes necks. Your neck looks tasty."

"You know, you're not the first to say so," Jace says, darting out of reach and swinging his sword. The shiny silver blade ricochets off the monster's skin, leaving not even the slightest impact.

"Ah," he says. "Wasn't expecting that."

Annabeth springs forward and stabs the Blemmyae in the back. It groans, still reaching out for Jace as it disintegrates into the earth. Meanwhile, Jace stands in a defensive position with what looks like a glowing stick in his hand. Annabeth could almost swear she heard him mutter something in a language that sounded Latin.

"Stranger and stranger," he murmurs, bending to examine the ground where the Blemmyae disappeared. He looks up at Annabeth. "What'd you call this demon, again?"

"It's a Blemmyae and it's _not_ a demon," she says again. "You're pretty clueless for a half-blood."

"And you're very knowledgeable for a Mundane," Jace says. He stands and holds his hand out for her to shake. "Seems like there's a lot we could teach each other."


End file.
